Believe it or not, during the first two weeks of having Seth, my husband was home with me. Even with his support, I still felt like I could not handle everything. I was trying to nurse, so regardless of whether or not my husband was home, I still had to get up for every feeding. During the times that Seth would just stay up for hours and hours, my husband would stay up with him after I fed him, but I still could not sleep even though I would have had the opportunity.
I cried to my husband and dreaded him going back to work. I was so fearful that when he returned to work, I would never see him. I thought everything was going to be about Seth and because he was so demanding, there would be no time for us. I was so sad that I had chosen this for my life and I felt that my relationship with my husband would be over when he returned back to work. He had tons of sick and vacation time, so I begged and begged him to get another week off of work because I just felt that I could not handle everything. I was fearful of being with my son 24/7 and then losing my relationship with my husband. I felt like my son was such an intruder in my life. I resented him for changing everything. I resented him because I felt like he was the reason I was feeling so "crazy". I would look at my son with a blank stare and just wonder how in the world I was ever going to bond with him, take care of him, have a relationship with my husband, and eventually go back to work.
During this time I tried to put on a good motherly act. Not just for others, but for my son. I didn't want him to feel the effects of a mother who was completely dying inside. I would hold him and say the things that I thought a mother should say. I would smile at him and play with him, all the while, on the inside I wanted to escape. I wished for a way out. I would hear others make comments about how cute he was and how proud I must be. As I heard these comments, I cringed inside. I knew that was how I should be feeling, but instead I was having thoughts about how much I resented my son. I felt horrible about these thoughts. The guilt was overwhelming. I got to the point that I just wanted to leave and escape everything. As I had those thoughts, I began to remind myself that God was with me. I yearned to run to the alter and let my Lord wrap His arms around me. I knew if I could just make it to the altar, everything would be better.
My first church service back after having Seth was an eye-opener for some. I barely got myself ready for church. I didn't care what I looked like, I just wanted to be there. I felt tormented all of the time, so I just wanted to get to church because things would be better. As I entered the sanctuary, tons of people greeted me with hugs and support. I started crying the moment one of my sisters in Christ hugged me. I thought I would just drop to the floor and melt. The hugs continued and I could feel the support of others even though they had no idea what I was going through. During altar call, I made my way to the altar. I fell to the floor and pleaded to God. I wanted this to all go away. I knew I wanted my son, but everything else needed to go. I was sick of being emotional, crying, having horrible feelings and everything else--it just needed to go. Again, despite my pleadings, the thoughts, emotions, crying, and everything else did not just disappear. I left the altar feeling like I had support, but that was about all. I walked back to my pew and looked at Seth and just started crying. He was asleep (of course because it was daytime) and I wondered how on earth I would ever be the mom that God had called me to be if all I continued to feel was pain and sadness. As I left church that day, I remember just wanting to leave it all. I thought that my husband would be better off if I was gone. It wasn't fair to him to have to deal with me and all of my issues. I thought he and Seth would be happy without me. My husband was a very good dad. He was very attentive and could take care of Seth just as well as I could, so I figured, why do they need me? I opened up to my husband and told him how I was feeling. He kept telling me that they needed me and that I was a good mom. I was not convinced.
I felt like I was the weakest I had ever been in my life. I was counting down the days until my husband had to return to work, and I thought my life would end. This intruder, this small precious baby, was ruining my life. The guilt was more than I could take. I had so much guilt from everything I was feeling and thinking. How difficult it is to see such a beautiful, helpless baby and the first thing that comes to your mind is, "why are you here, why did I do this". Every time I had negative thoughts about my baby and about being a mom (which was all of the time) I had tons of guilt. I felt so bad, and I had no idea how to change everything. Eventually my husband was able to get another week off of work. I was relieved for the first few days, but then the countdown began again. How was I ever going to do this?
Throughout those first 3 weeks, my husband tried to get me out of the house and doing other things. I was so filled with anxiety that I didn't want to be gone for long. We would take car rides and I would just stare out the window. Sometimes I really wasn't thinking about anything, just staring. Other times I was thinking about everything and wanting to run away. I would look over at Seth and tons of anxiety would rise up in me. He was peacefully asleep in his car seat. There were times I remember looking at him with so much anger. My husband would continue to say that things would get better. From where I was sitting, things never seemed like they would get better. My life would never be the same. This little life would always need me and I had no idea how I was going to survive the anxiety and stress of knowing that. I sat in the car unable to sit completely still due to the state of panic I was almost always in. I wanted to be normal, but I felt as far from normal as I could. Eventually the ride would end and we would go back home. I remember walking in the door and seeing all of the baby items strewn throughout the house. It was like a slap in the face, a knowing that this was never going to end.
Today I am still searching for the end to all of this. As you will see, things have gotten better, but not everything is fixed. Thankfully I know that "His strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:10). I know that I am weak, but He is strong and He will continue to help me through.
